


Soliloquy

by DrbWrite



Series: Twisted Toys, Broken Boys [4]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Bullying, Child Abuse, F/M, Gen, Homophobia, M/M, My First AO3 Post, Original Character(s), Original Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2017-11-24 01:51:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/628969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrbWrite/pseuds/DrbWrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Wild Previously Unrelated Story Appears:</p><p>Dean Wilderson: Trial and Error, Revamped.<br/>A story of a teen who just doesn't know how to give up. Follow him as he goes through the normal struggles of a teen in a small town- and then some.</p><p>Or, </p><p>There are seven days in a week,<br/>Of what do I speak,<br/>In this parody of a speech,<br/>But of a fate that is bleak?<br/>And a soul that grows weak-er.</p><p>*To be honest, this does not end well. Warnings tell no lies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dean Wilderson: Mr. Isolated, Days 1-2

**Author's Note:**

> My first fictional work here. I've decided to cannibalise my story for the greater good of everyone. So this chapter has been improved. Should be a more interesting read, if anything.
> 
> *Aaaand, the major warnings are for Chapter 5, so no worries, you can skip the gruesome. 
> 
> IF you want to. Read on.

“In a town of no major importance a young Dean Wilderson dwells. Attempting to in his efforts to rise above the standards, obliterate the limitations, and to display to the world that conforming isn’t a requirement. In this quaint town he lays the foundation to a society where everyone lives in peace and harmony. As many accuse him from all points he manages to cling to his childish innocence and turn a blind eye to the evil that comes from his surroundings. He remains a great influe-“

“What are you _doing_?”

Startled, Dean jumped from his perch on his bed. “Jolene! My room, my business!” Why he was surprised, he didn’t know. No one in his family knew the definition of privacy.

“Heh,” Jolene snorted, as she eased her shoulder away from the doorway where she leaned. “Mom said I should tell you that your ‘contemplation of the greater cause’ can wait ‘til after dinner. Now come on!”

Dean watched his big sister walk away with a spring in her step. She was usually bitchy and much sullen, but she seemed unusually cheerful. Perhaps she had met someone? Hmm. Nope. Probably not. Who would date a woman like her? Despite his whirlwind thoughts, Dean got up from his relaxed position on his bed and proceeded to hide away the journal in which he had been writing before Jolene had intruded. At least she hadn’t heard anything _actually_ personal.

 

* * *

 

Sketchbook in hand, Dean made his way to the living room after enjoying a sumptuous meal of pizza. “If you want it, I’m gonna be va va voom, voom...” Dean sang softly as he walked into the living room. As he entered he noticed that his mom, Lia Wilderson, was missing from the room. She was probably at work by now. She worked the nightshift at the hospital, same as her husband, Lionel.

Annoyed, Stephanie turned from her slouched position on the floor to glare at her irritating little brother, “Shut up, Dean. How can you be so annoying at your age?” Satisfied that she had appropriately scolded her brother, Steph turned away and absently flipped her wavy black hair that was getting in her face over her shoulder.

Dean eyed her in disbelief, “This from Ms. ‘Manga-is-my-life’? Whatever. At least I act like I have an actual social life.” He scoffed, walking past his sister to sit in the big comfy armchair, where he opened his book and started sketching, obvious from the _scritch-scratch_ of his pencil on the page.

They sat in silence for a few moments, with the television advertising some fast food place in the background. Jo’s laughter could be heard from her room not five minutes later. Dean rolled his eyes at her boisterous laugh, she was lucky Dad wasn’t at home to tan her hide for being so loud. Steph smirked at him as she tilted her head back and to the left to look at him. Dean shifted away from her on the couch. She obviously had some crazy plot in mind. That was just how she was. _Evil_. “Awkward hovering is not being social, De.” Her face just dribbled smugness.

Wow, what a comeback, Dean thought sarcastically. In response, he pouted sullenly at her statement. “I’m getting the impression that you are enjoying my misery.”

“You have impressed correctly.” She assured. Joy was apparent on Steph’s face. She didn’t seem to realize that Dean was just being dramatic.

Happy for this chance to rub her incompetence in her face, Dean opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted by Jo flopping down on the space on the couch between them.

Ignoring her siblings, she spoke breathily into the phone, “No, I’m alone. You’re hotter. Baby, you know how I do!” Jo whispered huskily into the phone.

Aggravated, Steph stood from where she sat on the floor and came to kneel beside where Dean sat and said in a fake whisper , “She loves making them think she’s all that. Can’t be a disappointing sex-line operator, after all, it’s her only chance at a well-paying job.”

Jo grabbed a cushion and hit Steph in the face with it. “Yep, I’m still listening.” She then proceeded to continuously beat Steph with the poor abused pillow.

From where he sat on the couch, Dean tried to perceive the image he was seeing. This was supposedly attractive. To love these crazy girls they must have some low standards or something. Dean didn’t know how he would ever deal with having to actually _marry_ a woman, what with what he had seen of his sisters. Not that what he thought even mattered.

 

* * *

 

At school that Monday, Dean sat at his desk tapping his pen idly against it. His mind was consumed with thoughts of the English homework that he had neglected to complete in favour of writing in his journal. At the sound of a familiar voice, his brown eyes searched the room and found a blond boy chatting with some classmates across the room.

“Luc! Hey, Luc!” The blond boy’s head jerked up at the sound of his name, and in a few long strides crossed the room to where Dean sat. He had an air of curiosity as he came to sit on Dean’s desk. “How you doing Lucas?” Having caught Lucas’ attention, a soft smile found its way onto his face as he rested his chin on his hand.

Lucas’ eyes radiated with unfiltered happiness. The boy was a ball of positivity as he spoke, “Alex forgot his lunch at home, but other than that I’m fine. Slick. Smooth. Easy on the eyes.” His eyebrows wiggled suggestively on his face as he explained.

Dean couldn’t look away, even as a faint blush came to his cheeks. Still, he had something to say. “Yeah, bet Britt has something to say about that.” His eyes glanced briefly to the Latina sitting with the ‘Dolls’, the most good-looking girls in the class, before returning to his best friend’s face. He knew Lucas would be distracted by his crush.

Lucas followed his line of sight. “I can’t speak for her. She already tried to flirt with my little bro.” Dean’s face showed what he thought of that. _Horror._

“She’s _sixteen_! What the hell? Can’t she get a guy her age?” It was pretty obvious, but it should be noted that Dean hated Britt’s guts with a burning passion hotter than the sun.

The blond’s nose wrinkled as he remembered the conversation he had with his little brother. Still, he tried for humour. “Come on! I _know_ I’m hot,” Luc lifted his shirt to briefly show a peak at the six-pack he sported, “but Alex _has_ got looks for an eight year old.” Dean lifted a brow in amused disbelief. “I mean, I’m not even on her radar anymore. I’m old news.” With great flamboyance in his body language, he slumped in feigned defeat.

Dean couldn’t stifle a chuckle, but also couldn’t stop himself from muttering, “I know the feeling.”

With the ears of a bat, Lucas heard his words despite the quiet way he spoke them, “ _Dude_. You are the sauce the girls put on food to make ‘em hot.”

Again, Dean had to laugh. “Are you calling me hot sauce?”

With a great casualness Lucas shrugged his shoulders and gazed into the distance. “Maybe.” He tilted his head slightly to the left. “I personally have no tolerance for it, but...”

Dean reached over and pushed the joking boy off his desk. “You’re such an ass!”

“Me! But how, Sir?” Luc feigned confusion, his hands raised in polite denial.

Dean crossed his arms sulkily. “Hmph. See if I give you a gift now!”

Luc perked up, “You remembered my birthday.” He then squinted at Dean. “I never told you my birthday though...”

The raven haired teen responded with an easy tone, “I asked your _brother_.” He snickered as Lucas’ face showed how offended he was.

“Oi, what gives? You prefer my brother, too?” his tone was slightly defensive as he questioneded Dean, “what else did he tell you?”

“Um,” Dean explained hesitantly, “you are just really adept at dating?”

Luc’s smile was blinding, “Awww, you’re such a dork! Don’t worry though, you’re big bro Luc will give you the detail’s.”

“God. Please don’t.”

Luc reached over and ruffled Dean’s chocolate brown locks, “Well, you see, when a man and a woman have needs they-”

“Lucas Sierah James! Don’t make me hit you!”

“You’re such a prude. No wonder you’ve never had a girlfriend.”

Dean puffed his chest out a bit, “Hey! I have appeal. I mean, I’ve made out with like five- don’t look at me like that. You haven’t been at this school that long.”

Luc rolled his eyes and put on his best ‘hell-to-the-no’ face. “Continue. Tell me who you _seduced_.”

Suddenly his pride wasn’t that important. “Forget it.” Dean shifted awkwardly in his seat. He wasn’t going to _talk_ about his flings, not like Lucas was apparently eager to.

Lucas wouldn’t have it though. With a fierce determination in his eyes and a mocking grin on his face, he addressed the class. “If you swapped spit with Dean please raise your hand.”

The class’ reaction was varied. Some of the girls looked interested, some guys held themselves with an awkward air of ‘um, whut’ and the others simply didn’t care. Really, none of them cared that much. Dean was an oddity in his class. They called him strange because of some of the things he had done in the past and just tried their best to ignore his presence.

“See. Your virgin lies have come to light.” Luc said, leaving out the obvious ‘I Told You So’, “I don’t judge though. I am a truly merciful king.”

Dean couldn’t help the slight hurt he felt. His friend had just spoken his business out to the class, with no regard to how embarrassed Dean would be. It wasn’t a long friendship, so some hurt feelings could be expected, but damn. The fifteen year old felt exhausted. He _used_ to have good friends, but he had lost them because he been a sensitive idiot about just about everything. He knew Lucas wasn’t an asshole like everyone else seemed to be, he seemed _different._ Someone Dean could maybe talk to. He just wanted someone he could trust. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. So thanks for reading. I'm still rewriting 17 pages of this, and writing maybe a couple more chapters so just be patient. And tell me what you think.
> 
> <3


	2. Dean Wilderson: Mr. Unintelligent, Day 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean faces consequences, Stephanie judges so hard and Lucas makes a very important decision.
> 
> Come in! *beckons you forth*

Dean walked into Steph’s room looking for a DVD. He really wanted to see the movie with the guy and that other guy. He _really_ wanted to see it. With this goal in mind, Dean made his way into his big sister’s room, completely ignoring the fact that it had been closed.

Steph stood in the middle of her room, towel clutched to her chest like prized pearls, her countenance shaken by the young man’s gumption. “DE! Knock!”

Dean realizing what had happened reared back into the hallway, away from his big sister clutching at her towel. His hands immediately moved to cover his face, his mind on the brink of collapsing inward from sheer horror. “Uh…sorry, I was hoping you wouldn’t be in your room at the moment.”

Steph did not look amused. Indeed, a storm was brewing on her face, her outrage at her brother’s actions taking precedence to her mortification.

Funnily enough, Jo walked by at that moment. Dean couldn’t believe his rotten luck.

His eldest sister had a bemused smile on her face as she came upon the strange scene. “Dean?” She questioned. Dean could see that, obviously, she needed answers. Who knew what she was thinking.

He tried to laugh it off. “Ha, don’t worry, just need some brain bleach.” He shrugged his shoulders as if to say, “What can you do, eh?”

Jo glanced to the left and spotted Steph in only the towel that preserved her dignity. Her eyebrows rose like mountains on her face. Her mouth opened, but then she seemed to reconsider what she was saying, as she closed her mouth and her brow became knitted in thought.

Silently, she padded her way over the plush carpet to where Steph’s door remained wide open. With a huff of amusement she scolded her little sister, “If you’re getting dressed then close the door.” She then reached out and shut the door with a bang.

“Not my fault.” Was Steph’s flat, muffled retort.

Jo’s chocolate brown eyes found their way back to her brother’s face. “The hell, Dean?” She questioned, head tilted in askance.

The boy was admittedly, a little frightened to explain. “It was unintentional; merely an unintelligent idea reaping its harvest,” Dean removed his hands from where they had been twisted together behind his back, only to awkwardly scratch at his chin, “I apologize for my ignorance.”

There was a moment of silence in the hallway between the two siblings. Jo’s eyebrows were raised incredulously, “Dean. What…?” She waved her hand in the space between them, as though waving away his words. “Nevermind.”

It was then that Stephanie emerged from her chambers, dressed completely in a black and white skirt and blouse ensemble. He could see that she was prepared to go to school. Unlike him, _ahahaha…_

“What did you want anyway, De?”

Dean found that he couldn’t meet the gaze of either of his sisters. _This is gonna be so dumb._ “Um, _Brokeback Mountain_. I kind of left it in your room.” His cheeks were on fire.

One could tell the moment that younger sister realized what he was referring to. Steph’s face darkened immediately. “What if Mom saw it in my room? You know she cleans our rooms! And didn’t I tell you to not watch that- that- that, _ugh!_ ” Stephanie was fuming. Her back was ram-rod straight, the muscles in her jaw twitching, as she leaned heavily back into the section of wall beside her door.

He felt as though his shame was covering him, from the top of his head, as it ran down his back, a sickly shroud. To make it worse, Dean could tell that he was descending into a panic. That wasn’t the reaction he had been expecting from Steph. Disapproval? Yes. ‘The Great Wall of China’ level of anger? Absolutely not. “No, Steph, it’s- I can just get it from your room. And if Mom had found it you know I would have taken the blame!”

From where she stood, Jo looked between the two with confusion. “I definitely missed something, didn’t I?” Confused though she was, her eyes automatically sought out Steph’s.

Steph didn’t even spare Jo a glance, “Google it. I’m not even going to explain,” Her glare was cold, something which frightened him, “Dean, what are you doing watching that _strange_ stuff?!”

Almost inevitably, Jo seemed to have rallied behind Steph, as she narrowed her eyes at Dean, “What am I looking for exactly?” Dean swallowed audibly, his fingers curling into tight fists at his sides. “Is it even English?”

Steph was visibly buoyed by Jo’s unspoken support and calmed at her sister’s curiosity. She was a very intelligent girl and loved displaying her vast knowledge of the odd. “It’s that gay cowboy movie.”  Under her breath she added, “It just ruined my whole day, the stuff I saw.”

“It’s not that bad.” Dean whispered pleadingly towards Jolene, his head bowed towards the floor, “It’s not.”

Jo’s eyes were contemplative as she considered her downtrodden brother for a few moments, before she slowly made her way to her room further down the hall. “Do you think I care, Dean?” She questioned, a strange light in her eyes. Dean couldn’t fathom what she was thinking.

Jo’s exit returned Steph’s attention to Dean. He felt like his sister was a large figure before him, towering over him, and he was a bug in her eyes.

“I mean, it’s sad enough that people _willingly_ do that stuff, but my own brother. Do you get _off_ on it?” Her voice was mocking, with a hint of genuine surprise.

“Of course not!” He lied through his teeth. Dean had known that this was to be expected where he lived, but really? Stephanie Margaret Wilderson? It was as if someone was forcing a knife into his chest. He had thought that perhaps if any would understand it would be Steph…

Steph rolled her eyes forcefully. It looked painful, even. “Are you really giving me that as an answer? _Of course not!_ ” She whined mockingly.

Drama class had never had much use until then. “I would never-how could you say-Steph!” He pretended to be outraged even as tears were threatening to fall, “I was only entertaining my curiosity. I mean, I’ve gotten my hand stuck in a pickle jar which you specifically told me _not_ to touch, right?” His arms flailed haphazardly, “Your baby brother just wanted to see what the fuss was about concerning that film,” he waved offhandedly, as though to say ‘what can you do?’.

Seemingly satisfied with his response Steph nodded her head in agreement, “Okay. Good.”

Dean sighed as he made his way to his room. There was honestly nothing wrong with it. _He_ didn’t think there was anything wrong with it.

 

* * *

 

 

Dean slumped against his door. With a long-suffering exhalation of breath he ran his fingers through his hair. This was not the life he wanted. He _needed_ to know that there was something better. If not...well. He was just going to have to settle with being another face in another obituary. He wasn’t even worth a glance. Suddenly Dean sat up. If he was invisible then he’d have to make himself as opaque as possible. To hell with the country hicks who only had hearts to judge. And if his family was among the many that united to hurt him...it was well known that sacrifices were many made by the great.

He wasn't seen further by anyone that day, hidden away in his room as he was.

 

* * *

 

 

Luc bounced where he stood, his veins bubbling with energy. It was a shame that Dean hadn’t come to school. He gave his head a good shake. No... it was a good thing Dean hadn’t come, he could finally make a move on the female population, or really, just Britt.

Luc jogged over to the ever beautiful, ever glorified Britt Singer. “Heeey, Britt. You look...great.” His smile wavered slightly, revealing his high level of nervousness.

Britt merely blinked, “Are you talking to me?” She gestured towards her person.

Lucas tensed, readying himself for the inevitable insult. She was a bit predictable, being a bitch.

“Because. If you,” She flicked her hand at him, “are using your mouth to make sounds at me, I’d have to call you a not-very-nice name.” She turned her pretty little head to glower in his direction.

“W-why? I-you-we, huh?” he sputtered, his mind foggy.

Britt’s friend, Romera, addressed him then, “We don’t care for bone headed _boys_ like you. Your very presence unsettles the stomachs of many.” She looked down her nose at him in condescension.

Luc got the message. He wasn’t dumb. What he didn’t get was the stereotype they forced unto him. “I don’t think so,” He shook his as if he couldn’t process her words, “ _and_ I wasn’t talking to you.” He turned away from the girl.

Britt snatched her eyes away from her nails, “Any reason you’re still here, Boy Blunder?”

“I want you to go out with me. Please?” He wasn’t above begging, “I haven’t seen a girl with your level of beauty to ask and I really need a date to the Banquet.”

Britt was starry-eyed, “Sucking up gets you _so_ far...”

Romera gaped, “You’re considering him?” She obviously thought a few screws had come loose in Britt’s head.

The look Britt gave Romera was scolding.

“Okay. I won’t question your peculiar taste.” She raised her hands in surrender.

Britt graced Luc with a regal smile, “I agree to your request, but I have a condition.”

“Uh-Huh.” He gestured for her to continue rather impatiently.

Britt rolled her hazel eyes, “‘Dean the Damsel’ is not to stalk us. He’s just not cool by my standards,” She stroked her chin contemplation, “He doesn’t pass any standards actually.”

Luc opened his mouth to protest but she held a finger up to signal his silence, “No. Take it or leave it, that’s my ultimatum.”

“Okay.” Luc had a feeling this would come back to haunt him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Lololololol. What was I thinking when I wrote this first? It was porn at first that they were arguing about. What even. Kinda happy with how it is now, I guess.
> 
> If you've read to the end, thank you. Feel free to leave a comment or whatever you deem appropriate. I want to know what you, the reader, thinks. I think I did better than the last. But that's me, what about you?
> 
> Go forth and respond!


	3. Dean Wilderson: Mr. Amnesia, Day 5

Dean knew he was a weird kid. He really did. That is why when he kept getting side-eyed by the kids at gym he ignored it. He had learnt to ignore many things in his lifetime. And even though it _hurt_ , he could live with the scorn of others. He just couldn’t fight anymore. He’d fought so many battles in the past, lost so many friends, lost so much respect. If someone would help him it would be better, but no one wanted to help _him._ And…he just couldn’t anymore.

Despite everything that told him to be otherwise, Dean was optimistic - and that would work in his favour sooner or later. Later being the most probable, but it _would_. He’d make sure of it.

It was as Dean was hovering awkwardly in one corner of the gym that Luc tapped him on his shoulder, “Heeey man. Where were you for the past two days? Were you sick, or-” His voice rose an octave.

Dean shook his head, a crooked smile on his lips. “I was fine,” He gestured for Luc to calm himself, “just contemplating my life and its purpose.”

His response did nothing to remove the worry that was on Luc’s face, but the blond went along with it, “Dude. You’re nerd genes are, whadduyacallit, expanding. It’s looking to be contagious.”  Luc visibly cringed at his own words, but the crinkling of the corner of his eyes revealed his amusement.

Dean rolled his eyes. Oh, what he would give to always engage in dumb banter like this. “It’s seems the real issue is Britt Singer glaring at us with such, _passion_.” Her eyes were like lasers, and looked as though they were trying their utmost to escape her sockets. _Even her_ _eyes_ _knew the type of person she was._

Luc twisted in order to catch a fleeting glance at her, “Uh, yeah about that. Me and Britt got to talking.”

“It’s _Britt and I_ not _me and Britt_ ,” Dean corrected automatically. It was as he processed the words that his form came to stiffen, “Hold up. You and her. Talking.” He gave a small smile, strained as it was. _Of course_. It was as though rain clouds had receded from above Luc’s head. His eyes were bright, his countenance totally gleeful, as though he had no worries in the world.

Luc nodded, his lips stretching into a wry grin, “Strange, huh?” Dean raised an eyebrow in acknowledgment, “I was a bit brave when you were gone and decided to ask her out to the Banquet.”

 _He should have known._ Dean’s realization did nothing to squelch the sinking feeling that had taken grip in his gut. He knew he wouldn’t like whatever else Lucas had to say.

“Anyways,” Luc hesitantly continued, scanning Dean’s face intently, even as he rolled his shoulder to relieve some pent up tension, “she doesn’t think you’re going to feel happy being a third wheel on our, you know, date, so she told me that I shouldn’t ask you to come.”

Dean scoffed. His absence wasn’t _advised_. Even he knew that. It was obviously not up for discussion. He didn’t know why he had expected why he expected anything different.

Luc tried to assuage any negativity that his words had caused, “Yeah, I know how that sounds, I mean, come _on._ But I really need this, she could open doors for me, to parties, to hot chicks,” _Something that you will_ never _be able to do_ , was left unspoken but so loudly proclaimed in the faint plea in Luc’s eyes, “so you have to, you know...get a life.” Luc’s eyes widened at his own words.

From the stinging in his eyes, Dean could tell that tears were sure to come. Something he didn’t want to happen, not hear. With as much casualness as he could muster, Dean speed-walked towards the wide open gym doors

Luc rushed to backtrack, as he rushed to follow. “No, Dea-come on, don’t _cry_. I didn’t mean it to sound so, uh. Sorry. I’m so sorry. No brain-to-mouth filter whatsoever.”

A choked sound left Dean’s throat, “But you were thinking it. That I obviously don’t have a life,” a thick laugh escaped him, “because I hang- no _follow_ you around. I thought we were friends at least.”

Luc’s eyes were wide, as he panicked in the face of his friend’s pain, “No, we _are_ friends. I just, need _space-_ to _fly_. _Soar_ , you know?”

“Oh I _know_ ,” Dean practically sobbed, despite his best efforts, “no man left behind, but I have _got_ to reach places you can’t reach, so buh-bye. I get the picture alright.”

The older boy was attempting to deny his friend’s words with all his might. “No I, dude. Just _let_ me, this once. _One_ time,” he held up a solitary finger, “and no more. I’ll even give up parties, and you know how I lo-wait, I’m losing focus here. I just. Duuude.”

“Of course, _duuude_. You said something about bros-before-hoes, but you don’t mean what you say sometimes, right? Lucas, is our friendship a _convenient partnership_ to you? Am I just a commodity to be used? You say ‘one time’ but I know you. Once is twice and twice is thrice, until ‘oops, I’ve got to problem. _Come on, chill,_ Dean.’” Dean knew he sounded like an extremely jealous girlfriend, but this was their friendship. Luc was his only friend at this point. And that seemed to be tentative at best.

Luc was frustrated by the words Dean was saying. “What even? _What_?!”

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose in similar frustration. Exhausted, he turned to leave and left muttering about thick-headed boys who didn’t realise the obvious until it _bludgeoned_ them to near-death. He didn’t even notice his teachers face, which was full of ‘what is my life, dealing with moody teenagers?’, before shifting to an expression of curiosity.

He and Lucas seemed to have forgotten they were in a class.

Full of inquisitive, curious, people.

All of whom had no qualms with eavesdropping.

And so: Rumours began. And the events just _happened_ to change. Depending on _whom_ you asked.

 

* * *

 

 

Steph jumped and almost face planted unto the floor at the sound of the front door slamming. Curious, she went to investigate. Though she knew it was probably Dean, she could never be too careful. Her father was a strict man after all. His disappointment was like murder to his children, depressing and scary. He would be unhinged at her blatant disregard for school to ‘entertain yourself with foolish, useless, _crap_ ’ and skip. Her father viewed indecent language and rule breakers in the same light that he viewed sexual deviants. They were unacceptable. Any behaviour other than the norm was a big no-no. ‘No’ meaning: ‘you will be useless when you reach adulthood, and no one in their right mind would want a useless woman like you’. It was enough to keep her on the alert.

She approached the front room cautiously, peering around a corner to in a n effort to glimpse the source of the noise. It was just Dean. If it was her father, she’d have jumped out a window. The _sad_ _thing_ is that she _actually_ would have.

Her brother was in the front room, causing a ruckus as he angrily chucked off the custom tailored jacket that Luc had gifted to him, only to neatly place it on the coat rack. Under his breath, she could hear him muttering derisively about dumb blonds and _fucking bitches._

Hearing the multitude of swears spewing from her brother’s mouth; Steph’s soft gasp went unchecked as her eyes widened greatly.

Dean twirled around swiftly, his eyes the equivalent of fear. “F-father?”

Steph came out of hiding, “De, have you forgotten? I don’t care who you’re angry at. Father has ears,” she gestured to the giant blinking security camera facing right at them, “he _hears_.”

Dean twitched hand twitched from where he brought it up to his chest. “He knows you’re here then?” It was a significant question indeed. One she’d rather not answer, but she did anyway.

She gestured for Dean to come closer and proceeded to whisper into his ear. The children had to be careful around the common areas. Father didn’t care unless it was something that would affect him indirectly. He sent most cases to Mom though. She was more compassionate and lenient. “I forged a note from the nurse, edited the nurse’s patient history, submitted the note to the main office, (“Were they suspicious?” “Nope. The note said and I quote, ‘Stephanie Wilderson suffers from an ailment that would be best cured if she avoids stress. She is therefore excused from all academic activities for the day. She is permitted one day of absence. Signed, Lionel Wilderson, M.D.’ End quote. I’m very thorough”) and came home. He’ll probably know later today, when he’s finished his shift.”

Dean regarded her with an impressed smirk.

This reminded her. “How’d you get out?”

“Oh no.” Dean’s mouth fell open in absolute terror, “I d-didn’t think a-and he’s g-going to h-h-hit me!”

Steph’s eyes widened in sympathy, but her voice dripped with disdain, “Goodness you’re _dumb_!” This only aggravated Dean more, “Okay, calm down. I’ll erase the video of you arriving and conversing with me and fill the space up somehow. You go back to school and pretend you were sick or something, so you’ll have had an alibi for,” she looked down at her watch, “your two missed periods.” Steph grinned. Her plan was flawless. She told Dean so.

Dean let out a shaky breath, “Let’s hope for my sake you’re right.”

They both departed and played their roles in the (near) impossible mission.

 

* * *

 

 

The English teacher looked at him with beady eyes, “Mr. Wilderson, I hope your digestive system stays fully functioning during my class.” The class snickered.

Dean huffed, used to the ridicule. “I’ll try, ma’am.” He sometimes felt that his teachers were sadists. Quickly, he made his way to his seat.

“ _Do you see? He’s abandoned_ the _gift.”_

_“Yah, I heard he gave a few guys,” insert lewd gesture here, “yah know.”_

_“Really. So he fails spectacularly at blo-”_

Dean thought it best to ignore the rumour mill for a while. As long as it stayed private, people could say whatever. He ignored the crude words hidden in fake coughs and the rude words that flowed without issues. He knew how this town worked. If he didn’t respond they’d think he was ‘the bigger man’ and come to realise that they needn’t gossip. It _had_ happened before. The guy was so broken up about the words alone, then his parents heard and the guy blew his brains out in his friend’s car. Said friend’s death was the reason the rumours started in the first place. All he’d done was cry at the funeral. Dean knew the truth though, and he’d hang unto it until it slipped from his grasp. Clammy fingers are never good.

A knock at the class door caught everyone’s attention. Ms. English teacher stepped outside. It was Mr. Gym teacher.

_“Bet he’s go-”_

_“I don’t believe you.”_

_“-was positive. What am I going to-”_

Mr. Gym teacher pored over each face until he settled on Dean’s. “That’s the one, Julia.”

Ms. English teacher smiled softly at Mr. Gym. Then she gestured to Dean, “Rob wants you, kid.”

Dean nodded and quickly gathered his belongings. Surely, he hadn’t been caught lying about his whereabouts. Rob Gym (Dean found it idiotic to remember the names of teachers. He would only know them for a year anyway) led him a good distance away from the classroom.

“Look, Wild. I can call you Wild, right?” Rob Gym furrowed his brows.

Dean was about to nod but thought better of it, as his answer was required. “Yes, uh-”

Rob Gym raised a brow at him, “The name’s Rob Wren. Geez, Wild, don’t you remember anything?”

“Sir?” Dean was confused. Did his teacher know him from elsewhere?

Rob Gy-Wren rolled his eyes, “You know Jimmy?” Dean nodded in confirmation, “Well, I’m his uncle.”

“You’re Uncle Rob?” Dean’s voice was filled with disbelief.

So… ** _pause_**.

Dean had once befriended a Jimmy. He was cute. _Very_ cute. Whatever. Jimmy wanted him to meet his parents; Dean thought it would be awkward, what with where they lived. A guy was to bring home a nice _girl_ and well...it’s obvious really. So Jimmy had him meet his uncle instead. It went over pretty well. Uncle Rob understood their predicament and agreed to hush up. His efforts were wasted anyways. Dean ‘de-friended’ Jimmy Wren on Facebook less than a week later; it was brutal; they texted about who’d keep which friend and so on. Wasn’t technology great? Anyways, Uncle Rob loved spending time with them. That’s the story of Uncle Rob.

Okay, _**continue**._

Rob reached over and rubbed his hand along Dean’s shoulder to comfort him. Dean let him because he had been missing out on fatherly affection for a _long_ time.

Dean gave him a shy smile, “So you wanted to talk to me, Mr. Wren?”

 “You can call me Rob, all the kids do.” Another smile from Ro-you know what? No. He was not comfortable calling him Rob. The rumours would multiply by ten. Seeing his change in emotion, Mr. Wren removed his hand and took a step back. “You okay, Wild?”

Dean shook his head vigorously, “I’m not comfortable calling you by your first name. It’s not appropriate.”

Mr. Wren gave an amused huff, “You sound like a teacher, more than me even.” The teacher sobered, “Just know, you can trust me, you hear kiddo?”

Dean supposed he was expected to thank the heavens. _Finally_ , someone who knew what he did who he could trust and didn’t care about a few of his _quirks_. “Thanks, Mr. Wren.”

“No problem, kiddo.”

It was as he was making his way back into the English classroom, that a football player barreled Dean into a wall as he made his way past. Mr. Wren was quick to pull the offender away from him.

Mr. Wren roared at the player, his deep baritone echoing through the halls, “Tyrone Fields! What has gotten into you?!”

Tyrone ignored Mr. Wren and looked Dean dead in the eyes, “I know what you did with Jim.” He gave Dean a cruel smirk, as he poked his cheek with his tongue, the flesh bulging obscenely.

Dean much resembled an open mouthed fish with his gaping. He was confused and offended and pissed and betrayed. “Fields? What are you talking about?”

The bell rang and many students flooded the halls. The few surrounding the English class stopped as they saw the teens and watched the confrontation.

“I know what you are,” Tyrone gloated, “and just know, you’re going to get punished.”

Mr. Wren’s face turned red, “Are you threatening fellow students now, Fields?”

Tyrone snorted in the teacher’s face, “Divine retribution is hardly a threat, more like, a warning.” With one slick move he was out of Mr. Wren’s arms and disappearing among the crowd.

Dean’s chest felt tight, like someone was tightening their arms around his middle. From where he stood, he could see students glancing at him and whispering, laughing at his misfortune. With an extremely heavy heart Dean went to retrieve his bookbag for his next class. All of this drama did not sit well with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Another one gets edited. Dum-dum-dum, another one gets edited. Yap.
> 
> If you've read to the end, thank you. Feel free to leave a comment or whatever you deem appropriate. I want to know what you, the reader, thinks. 
> 
> Go forth and respond!


	4. Dean Wilderson: Mr. Uncouth, Days 5-6

Jo and her siblings were practically exposing their necks in a show of submission to the man they called their father. He was a fearsome man.

Lionel Wilderson glowered at his children, “What have you done to the Wilderson name?” He turned his sights on Dean, “What did _you_ do?”

Jo spoke up in order to divert attention from Dean, “All of it is my fault, Father. I should have prevented this. I should have known.”

Steph wrung her hands in her lap, and eyed her father rather from beneath her eyelashes. They all knew what their father was capable of.

Lionel stood to his full height and looked down his nose at Jo, “Did I give you permission to talk?” He promptly back handed her.

Steph attempted to hold back the sob that was desperately trying to escape her, while Dean rubbed desperately at his eyes.

Lionel narrowed his gaze at them, “Why are you all crying? Didn’t I tell you that you needed to be stronger?” He slammed his fist against the wall, “I can’t believe I raised you _failures_. I told your mother I didn’t want children, but she was already pregnant with Jolene. I lost precious hours of sleep and was passed over for a promotion because of you children.”

Jo held her cheek tenderly in her hands, “Permission, Sir?”

The man gave a gruff nod, a scowl plastered onto his face.

“I apologize, Father. We know we’ve been trouble since birth. We are very troublesome children and it’s a compliment of your character, Father, that you can handle us.” She gave him a significant look.

“Don’t worry Jolene. I knew you were abnormal the day were born.” Lionel studied her demeanour and gave a genuine smile, “I commend you for taking responsibility. You are excused.”

Jo sat gaping at her father for a moment. That was not how she had expected it to go. She mouthed ‘I’m sorry’ at her siblings as she left the room. As soon as the door was closed she had her ear against it. She had wanted to take the full punishment and spare Dean and Steph. Instead it was the other way around.

“Dean. Explain yourself.”

Dean was sniffling as he answered, “I apologize, Father. My classmates have been making fun of me this term. I can assure you though, that none of their words are true, Father.

Their father didn’t even acknowledge that Dean had spoken, “Stephanie! You were my only hope. What has gotten into you?”

“I apologize, Sir. The stress of my responsibilities was too great, so I organized a free afternoon so I could relax.”

Father scoffed, “Relaxation is for slobs.”

“Sir, the doctor’s told me that I had high blood pressure. They told me to take a break, so I did. I just didn’t want to bother you with my petty issues.”

“Very well, you are excused.”

Jo scurried away from the door in time to avoid an accident. Steph stormed out and stopped to eavesdrop just as Jo had before. Jo went to join her.

“-have done better in this case, I just know it.”

Dean whimpered, “Father...”

“No! I cannot have an _odd_ son. It’s unheard of. You _will_ attend therapy until you are of a sound mind. A number of persons have been recommending some institutions for you.”

The couch creaked, suggesting Dean had slumped in his seat, “Yes, Father.”

Lionel’s harsh tone was set upon Dean once more. “Sit up, lad. You are of reputable background and as such should act in kind.”

“Of course, Sir.” Dean said with a fake cheer that brought about pain in Jo’s chest.

Jo and Steph exchanged worried glances. If their father had reacted this badly to idle gossip, then how would the man react to the fact that Dean was actually, well…

 

* * *

 

 

Lucas cast a searching gaze around the classroom.  It seemed that every time he went looking for Dean, the boy would just disappear. And it was getting annoying. How was he supposed to reconcile with his best friend if his best friend was nowhere to be found?

Lucas sent a withering glare at Romera before settling into his work. Romera was still hell-bent on dissolving his agreement with Britt.

He lifted his head at the sound of the classroom door opening.

Ms Julia Benili tutted disapprovingly as Dean stepped into class 20 minutes into the class session, “Mr. Wilderson, I was waiting for the announcement of your death. Why have you been absent?”

Dean glanced around the room somewhat nervously and then gave Ms Benili an envelope.

She lowered her sight to the paper she held and nodded for Dean to take a seat.

As Dean lowered himself into the chair beside Lucas he couldn’t contain his excitement. Finally, _finally_ , they could talk it out and hopefully make peace.

Lucas quickly set to making amends. “Psst. Hey Dean! I’m sorry!” He whispered. He didn’t really realise that his version of a whisper was the much proclaimed ‘stage-whisper’. Meaning his whispering didn’t do anything to prevent the slightly cocked ears and the students who knew no shame.

Dean turned towards him and narrowed his eyes. Huh, he was gonna play _that game_ then.

“I want to apologize for being so mean to you.  I mean, it’s a wonder you and your siblings haven’t declared war on me yet. So yeah,” his apology too quickly lost its gusto, “sorry.”

The tense silence that followed went to show Lucas that Dean wasn’t in a forgiving mood and that even the teacher cared for this piece of _absolutely juicy_ conversation. Luc peered around the classroom. He cursed himself silently. Dean was a reserved guy and didn’t like making everything about him public knowledge, so he obviously didn’t appreciate the location of this conversation especially when so many nosy individuals were around.

Lucas nodded to himself. Of course, he could just wait a few hours to fix their broken friendship. He wiggled his eyebrows and winked at Dean as he tried to convey his message of, ‘talk later’.

A few scoffs and giggles could be heard through and through the room.

Lucas himself was a bit confused as to why they were reacting in this manner. Had he done funny?

As far as Luc could tell, Dean was seething in his place. “I have no time for your foolishness, Lucas.” He muttered darkly. Luc couldn’t stop the shiver that ran through his body. At his tremor Dean merely turned back to the teacher to try and salvage what he could of the ruined class session.

Luc settled back in his chair and steepled his finders. He would have to plan a course of action and plan a back-up in case his original plan failed. This will have turned out well by the time of the banquet...Of this he was sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *So. I cut this short so I could make Chapter 5 the last, but, heh, nope.


	5. Dean Wilderson: Mr. Unknown & Unheard, Day 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING FOR GRAPHIC RAPE/NON-CON...See endnotes for details.

Dean paced the ball room floor impatiently as the gears in his head turned at astonishing speeds. How could he correct this _blip_ in his already tarnished reputation? His father had proclaimed to his colleagues that his son had an appointment to help him overcome this ‘ _illness’_ and would be back to perfect health as soon as he was able to leave after the end of the semester, so at least the adult vultures were off his back for a time. But Lucas just had to come in with his ‘I’m-sorry-please-accept-my-apologies’ and his stupid face and had served to fertilise the plant that would inevitably serve to poison them both.

Words were a powerful thing and as such should be used sparingly and with much consideration. An action was worth a thousand words and if that saying still rang true, Lucas’ fail to comprehend and act accordingly would be the death of them, and he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that this was a truly unfair consequence of simply _being_.

“-ean! Dean!” Steph’s cries registered in his mind.

He turned and looked at his sister. His dear, dear sister. How would she react to his soon coming death? Would she laugh at the cruelness of it or cry at the unjustness of it. After all, despite how advanced this small town was they still lived in the days of old. Meaning unnatural practices still were punished by those who deemed themselves worthy to judge (read: lynch mobs). The highly famed would lead of course, thus supporting his earlier thoughts. His father was, naturally, the most influential person in town and would be called upon to lead the ever ongoing vendetta against the _wrong_. The justice system here wouldn’t be much of a help either, as they tended to punish those caught in unnatural acts with a minimum sentence of 5 years in prison. If he were to be caught by a fellow townsperson, if in fact he _were_ to practice the odd, he and his ‘fellow sinner’ would be subjected to having rotten fruits and veggies thrown at them, before those who deemed themselves worthy to judge sought to punish them. If he were, _in theory_ , to practice, then his best chance of survival would be to escape this town and never return. He would miss the love of his mother, who had so gently tried to discourage his curiosity, warning him that it would get him killed. Curiosity killed the cat after all. And wouldn’t it just tickle the overgrown vultures. It was obvious really. They never garnered any respect in their lifetime and as such the _punishment_ of ‘The Great Lionel Wilderson’s child would serve to destroy his reputation. Unless he took part in the _punishment_ , which Dean never doubted he would.

 “-ello! Come on, Dean! I’ve been calling you for so long!”

Dean finally snapped out of his brood and attempted to smile at his big sister, but his facial muscles refused to cooperate.

Steph sighed. “Would you like to dance? You have managed to avoid everything this Banquet was meant to achieve.” She gestured to his finely tailored suit and her cream ball gown. “Surely you realise that ignoring every dance offer is not suitable. The hellhounds will rip you to shreds, especially with the things I’ve heard of you.” It was apparent that she was put out by his behaviour.

Dean raised an eyebrow, perfectly groomed for this very occasion. “Wouldn’t dancing with you make it worse, and are you not weary of the hellhounds of which you speak?”

Steph snorted in response, “It would prove most gentleman-like to reserve your first and last dance for your sister who you hold most dear,” Dean rolled his eyes, “and they who shall not be named have no rule over the words that escape my mouth.”

The corners of Dean’s mouth twitched ever so slightly upward. “How could I oppose such wisdom?” Steph shot him a warning look. He couldn’t repress the giggle that escaped him.

Steph paused in her surveying of the ball room and turned her scrutinising gaze upon her brother. Dean shifted uneasily as she seemed to size him up. She finally spoke, low so that her words could be heard between them, “If you are _that_ way, I will not shun or abandon you, brother. I witnessed your birth, and I refuse to witness your death.”

Dean spoke, equally as low, “Yet you don’t accept the practices?” His heart was beating with short intervals and dark spots clouded his vision.

“Yes, I don’t. But I could learn to accept you, so that is really what matters.” Steph voice was a mix between fondness and contemplation and that is what slowed Dean’s rabbit heart.

Dean gasped in relief, “Thank you, sister. May I have this dance?”

Steph nodded and then smiled at him brightly, “Of course, my brother.”

They both proceeded to the center of the ball room only to stop a moment later.

“Why isn’t Jolene here? I am certain she would appreciate this event more than the both of us combined.” Steph questioned, a hint of darkness still lingering in her tone.

Dean knew of the reason. Steph did too. Jolene was busy at university and couldn’t come to enjoy all the evening had to offer. They did try convincing their father, but that was like attempting to move a structurally sound brick house with their bare hands only. It was a mystery why one would attempt such a feat. “She is busy in her studies, Stephanie. You and I both know that father barely wanted to send her to university, so she has to maintain her scholarship.” The behaviour of their father never was clear to them or anyone for that matter. He clearly did what he wanted.

Steph shook her head in pity. It was well known in their family that Steph was the favoured child and would be going to the best university England could offer. It didn’t matter that they didn’t live in England, Father just loved her exceedingly more. It didn’t make him sad. Well, _it did,_ but just a tad, since he didn’t care much for Father.

How much longer could he stay in a place where his own father would betray him? The thought made Dean grimace.

A loud clatter and crash reached the ears of the Wilderson siblings. They turned towards the source and rushed forward to offer assistance if needed. What greeted them mad them both sigh in sync. Tyrone and Lucas were yelling at the top of their voices with much fervour and their argument seemed ongoing.

“-with me being here?!” Tyrone’s black hair clung to his head as he made his demand.

Lucas scoffed as the muscles in his eye twitched, “You have no reason to be here! You always cause trouble and nobody likes you!” He regarded Tyrone with much irritation, “You might as well go jump off a cliff!”

The assembly of party goers fell silent. Dean himself could feel his eyes widening at Lucas’ words, as much as everyone else’s. No one dared speak a word as they glanced between the two teens.

Tyrone to his credit didn’t do anything rash, but everyone could see the teen flushing leaving his golden skin a bright, frightening, red. His eyes had blazed. To Dean it was strange to see Tyrone angry, and he had to admit, it wasn’t making him feel good at all.

Shaking, with anger or restrained violence (or even both), Tyron spoke his voice thick with emotion. His eyes blazed and his temper seemed ready to reach out and bite any who wronged him. “You-you dipshit! You don’t realize who you’re talking to. But know this, when I get my hands on you, you _will_. _Wish_. _You_. _Were_. _DEAD!_ ” With his last word he turned and stormed out of the ball room.

After Tyrone disappeared from view, Dean turned disbelieving eyes to Lucas. What had he done that for? Wasn’t Tyrone enough of a menace? Why?

Steph meanwhile was gaping at Lucas. Dean knew what she was thinking. _How could someone say that?_ It was a question that many around who witnessed the exchange were whispering amongst themselves. Lucas was staring at the floor directly before him with something akin to wonder. Perhaps he was wondering what had possessed him to say those cruel words.

 

* * *

 

 

Tyrone glared at his bedroom ceiling. He had let his temper run rampant and the result was many of his textbooks destroyed beyond repair. This was why he hated people, believe it or not. They always made him do things in his anger that he would never consider while otherwise emotional. He could just imagine the swarmy grins on Dean and Lucas’ faces. He would get them back he decided. He would hit them where it hurt. They wouldn’t even have time to call for help. They would be at his mercy and he would be able to make sure they wished they were never born as he once did. He would crush them totally.

With these thoughts in mind he fell into a blissful sleep.

 

* * *

 

 

An hour later and Dean was done with life. Not only had Lucas somehow managed to become Tyrone’s nemesis, but Britt had soon whisked him away to the cool kids table, and he seemed to be having the time of his life. Not once had he glanced at Dean. The brunet was completely absent from his mind.

It was as Dean was pondering his situation that someone approached his dark corner of the ball room. “Alone?”

Dean turned to the tall stranger. His eyes caught on his broad shoulders and the ruggedly handsome features of his face. The guy’s blue eyes were sparkling as he took in Dean’s star struck gaze. His tongue big and clumsy, Dean made his way through a response, “Y-yeah. My friend ditched me for a girl.” The gentleman offered him a glass of punch, and Dean smiled in appreciation as he took a sip.

Tall, dark and handsome nodded in commiseration, “Ah, I know the feeling. A friend of mine actually ditched me because he was worried what people would say. It sucks, huh?” His big hands found their home in his trouser pockets.

Dean couldn’t help staring at the single person not related to him that had approached him that night. “So, you go to MS High?”

A chuckle escaped the older man, his eyes not leaving Dean’s face. “I’m actually a chaperone. A favor for my boss.”

The teen found himself becoming immersed in their conversation, his fascination with the chaperone having no end. “How do you like St. Michaels? Is it weird seeing a bunch of country hicks making a big deal out of a school dance?”

The gentleman was amused, blue eyes squinted, the corners of his eyes crinkled. “Not really, I only recently moved out of Dale. Spent most of my life there, and that place is as backward as you can get, all obsessed with being good church-goers and shit.”

Dean smiled in response, balancing on the tips of his toes idly. “Yeah.”

Their conversation devolved from there, becoming an exchange composed mostly of the older brunet speaking and Dean just giving a single word response. It continued until Dean could seemingly not muster together a single coherent sentence. His face was awfully flushed; the room was as hot as a sauna. The older man soon took notice, “You okay, Dean?”

The teen shook his head. His head felt heavy and the heat was uncomfortable, and everything felt slow. When Sean offered to take him outside for some fresh air he gladly went with him.

 

* * *

 

 

Dean’s head felt awful, it was as if his head had gone through a grinder. Sluggishly, he tried to take his head into his hands, but found that he couldn’t move them. They were being held do-

“ _Fuck_.”

Sean was above him-

He was-

Suddenly, Dean was aware of the grass and bushes that scratched at his back as he was shoved through the motions of Sean’s thrusts. His whole body ached, and he couldn’t stop himself from crying out as one of the thrusts was particularly harsh, practically splitting him open. Tears were running down Dean’s face as the assault continued. A mixture of blood and sweat and- ran down between his legs, causing leaves to stick to him uncomfortably. Dean closed his eyes.

 _Smack_. “Fucking open your eyes. _Look_ at me!” as his eyes opened, Dean could see the smile on Sean’s face, feel the way he slowed down his thrusts as he lowered himself until they were plastered together, front to front. His hot, panting breaths could be felt on Dean’s cheek, and Dean cried harder, his chest hitching as he sobbed, interrupted by soft gasps as Sean thrust. The man moaned at the sight of Dean’s tears.

“- _uh_ -”

The boy was dying, _surely_ , and the rocks poking at him, the dirt and leaves that clung to his skin, the dick that was spreading him, tearing him, they were just a dream. His head turned limply, and his brown eyes saw the lights that shone from the windows of the school. _Maybe._ He was right outsi- “- _fuck_ -” He was right outside the area of the building that had the bathrooms. They were just 20 feet away. Dean couldn’t help the fresh tears that welled up in eyes, as he heard voices within. With renewed hope, he tried to scream, but found he could only sob harder, with his quiet whimpers escaping him.

“-yeah. Really _lame_. I mean, thinking that you were a gay like him, right?”

“Yeah. I mean, people told me that he’s tried to get me to fuck him, but I can’t-”

“Hey, you hear that?”

“What? The birds?”

“No, Lucas, that doesn’t sound like fucking birds.”

A scream worked its way out of his throat, but it was cut short by a large hand dwarfing the lower half of his face.

“Someone is _getting some_. Damn.”

“…Lucas, I don’t think-”

“Shut up, Jim. Do you want Britt to take us for pussies? Snitches? No? Then shut up.”

_Oh god. No no no no. I’m gonna die. I’m gonna die outside in the dirt with some stranger doing god knows what to me and nobody will know-_

“Shitty –uh-, huh?” The bastard was smiling, fucking up into the boy beneath him leisurely. Dean refused to acknowledge. He refused to acknowledge the bastard as he continued to taunt him, dragging out the torture. The larger man paused momentarily, pulling out, causing Dean to hiss in pain as the organ pulled at all the tears inside him. Sean sat up on his knees, pumping himself absentmindedly as he rummaged through a bag that was beside him. He apparently found what he was looking for, as he entered the teen once more, speeding up, up, up, as he came to his completion.

_Please, God. Help me. I don’t want to die. Please._

Dean could feel the man’s release as it stung at his insides. The boy ignored it forcefully. He wouldn’t give the man the pleasure. _Not again._

The older man moved his right hand from where it had been supporting him beside Dean’s head. In the light of the moon, the knife gleamed where Sean had it raised.

The knife descended, plunging into the young brunet’s stomach. Sean pulled out, leaving the knife where it was as he ordered himself. When he had finally gathered his things into his bag, he finally took the knife with him, leaving behind the rapidly bleeding body of his victim.

Dean’s tears began again as he grasped at his wound, as his life blood gushed out rapidly. The fifteen year old could feel his blood forming a sticky puddle beneath him. As the minutes passed, he could feel himself growing weaker and his heart beat slowing. Eventually, his limbs were too heavy for him to lift. Black spots began to encroach on his sight and he shook his head weakly, hoping to somehow shake them from his sight, to no avail. The black spread across his line of sight and within moments he could see no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regarding that warning. Starts at "Dean's head felt awful..." and ends before "Dean's tears began again..."/the last paragraph.
> 
> This whole story leads up to this point.
> 
> *Here we are. Some old content with a lot more added to get this thing done.
> 
> I don't know. It feels off.
> 
> Final Chapter to come.


	6. Have you felt a little off today, had a lot to say, but wound up talking to yourself?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One day you opened up your eyes, inside of you,  
> Inside a world, inside a universe, you didn't get to choose,  
> You didn't get to pick the rules, or pick the past, or set the pace,  
> Or cast the cast and crew, you didn't get to pick your starting place,  
> And though it was a race you didn't understand  
> You simply lined up on the blocks, and when the pistol popped you ran.
> 
> -George Watsky

 

Stephanie stared at the corpse that had been her brother only hours before. Its face was pale. Its body was nude.

 

“Miss, please, don’t look, it’s not right-” The police officer tried to shepherd the young woman away from where the body lay in a pool of blood, messy from the torture that the young man had undergone shortly before his death.

 

Stephanie shrugged off the hands of the officer, moving closer to where the body lay amongst the grass and shrubs.

 

“ _Please_. Ms. Wilderson-”

 

The body had been raped. Her brother had been raped. Someone had raped her brother and _killed_ him.

 

Her brother was _dead. Her little brother was_ dead.

 

A second officer joined the first. “Please, it’s a crime scene; we need to ensure that none of the evidence is contaminated so that we can find the one who did this.” The policewoman grasped her arm lightly, only for it to be quickly withdrawn as the girl convulsed where she stood, before collapsing to her knees. A sound started low in her throat, leaving her mouth gaping as it escaped.

 

She **screamed**

and **_screamed_**

and _**SCRE**_ ** _AMED_**.

 

* * *

 

 

The door to his room banged open, splintering from its impact with the wall.

 

“ _TYRONE FIELDS! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!”_

 

Tyrone gasped awake, scrambling to escape the screams of his mother. “Mom, what-?”

 

“ _The POLICE say that you MURDERED a classmate. That gay boy. TYRONE, ANSWER ME RIGHT NOW!”_

 

“I haven’t done a thing, Mom. Honest!” Tyrone screeched in response, quickly climbing from where he had fallen off the bed in his scramble.

 

Her eyes were red calmed slightly as she took in his response, “Oh dear. The police say that they want to question you regarding the death of that gay boy in your class.”

 

Tyrone squinted at his mother in confusion. Having only recently awoken, his mind was still foggy, which was the only explanation he had for his words, “The faggot Jew is dead?”

 

The air in the room was suddenly lacking as the matron took a deep breath, face turning an alarming shade of red, “ _What DID YOU JUST SAY?!”_

 

“Fuck, _Mom_ -”

 

“ _HOW DARE YOU SPEAK LIKE THAT IN_ MY _HOUSE?! I SHOULD WASH YOUR MOUTH OUT WITH SOAP, BOY!”_

 

* * *

 

 

The police officer sat calmly as mother and son entered the living room. As the boy sat, she got straight to the point. “A schoolmate of yours was murdered at your school’s Banquet last night.”

 

Tyrone’s face was set in stone. “Jimmy?”

 

The woman shook her head, and brought him up short as she spoke, “Fifteen-year-old Dean Wilderson was found dead at approximately 11:00 last night, after a classmate, Romera Kent, discovered his body. We’d like to know where you were between the hours of 10 and 11 last night.”

 

Ms. Fields had her mouth covered in shock, but shot the police officer an angry look. My son was here for most of the night, Officer.”

 

The policewoman was unfazed, “Do you have anything that would corroborate your story?”

 

It sunk in that he was suspected of killing Wilderson. He was _not_ going to jail for this. “Yes. I came home at around 8, fell asleep, and my girlfriend came over at 9. We were here for most of the night watching movies.”

 

“And there is proof of this?”

 

“Of course there is. Our alarm system connects up with a system that records when we activate and deactivate it, I think. Also, we ordered pizza at about 11:30, and were watching a PPV movie on the TV.”

 

“Alright. Do you know of anyone who would wish harm to Dean Wilderson?”

 

“Chyeah.” It’s too early for this fucking shit. _Coffee._ “Do you know how many guys he has following him around? Coach Wren is a no brainer, everyone is sure that they fucked at least once.” _Maybe._ “He may not have wanted that to get out. Then you have the gay Je- sorry, _Jimmy_. They fucked around at Coach’s place.” _Definitely. Disgusting._ “You have Lucas Blondfuck,” _asshole_ , “the dumbass who loves him, and also Arnold- the geek from my class? Yeah, they fucked last year.” _Never wanted to hear that shit._ “I’m pretty sure his daddy fucks him too.” _Well. He probably wished upon a star for it._

 

The women stared at him in silence for a few seconds. His mother was turning red again. _Fucking unlucky._

 

“I’m dead fucking serious.”

 

Ms. Fields turned to the lady officer and offered her apologies. “I’m terribly sorry about Tyrone. His dad had him for the first decade of his life and it’s really influenced him in the way of bigotry. I know he’s responsible for his words, but he’s a dumb teenager who _should_ but _doesn’t_ know better.”

 

* * *

 

 

“-leading character or protagonist in a narrative. Generally, in modern terminology-”

 

The monotone voice of Ms. Benili droned on, unaffected that the majority of her class was not giving her their attention. As usual. Except the circumstances were not the usual. The students were speaking freely, as well as texting, but there was a somberness in the air. No one laughed. No one spoke too loudly, for fear of breaking the tense atmosphere that had taken hold of the class.

 

There was a reason for this of course.

 

Dean Wilderson was dead.

 

The thought resounded in Lucas’ head, ringing loudly, drowning out all other thoughts that may have wanted to take root. His best friend was dead. The blond would never be able to apologize for the cold shoulder, the words said behind Dean’s back.

 

The girls were whispering quietly to each other, Britt with pursed lips and a wrinkled brow. The guys were acting likewise, though Jim was practically inconsolable where he sat in the corner of the room, being awkwardly comforted by his compatriots. It was a hard thing to watch, as his breaths hitched, words flowing in an endless spew from swollen, abused lips, and tears making their way from bloodshot eyes.

 

Lucas returned his gaze to where Ms. Benili stood, watching as her mouth moved without pause, formulating words that were heard by none of the students within the class. Absently, he turned his head to the left from where it rested on his crossed arms. As he expected, he felt his chest tighten and throb at the sight of the empty desk and chair. Even though it had been that way for the past six days he still couldn’t stop himself from staring at the place where his friend had sat just last week. There would be no more weekend plans to share with the quirky, if quiet, teen. No more blushing smiles, no more shy glances that Lucas ignored. No more of anything from Dean.

 

The door to the classroom opened softly, and Ms. Beneli paused in her unheard monologue to address Mr. Wren from where he peaked through the cracked door. After an exchange of words that went over Lucas’ head, Jim gathered his things from where they had been sprawled across his desk and made his way to where the gym teacher stood. The two embraced tightly, and it was at that moment that awful, heartbreaking sobs escaped Jim. The older man whispered into the teen’s neck, muttering softly into the nape of his nephew’s neck.

 

The scene brought to mind the interrogation that had occurred days before, where the police had come by the school to find out if any of the students had seen anything suspicious that night. Jim’s face had been crumpled in emotion, admitting through his tears that he had heard some noises, but had been assured by his friend that they were normal. They didn’t want to seem uncool to the girls, Jim had explained.

 

* * *

 

 

The counselor’s office had never been as daunting as at that moment when he had stood against the closed door, bearing witness to the pale boy’s confessions. The officer had turned his gaze to Lucas, his eyes imploring, even as a frown remained fixed on his already gaunt features.

 

So Lucas told the truth. “After Tyrone left I saw D-Dean make his way over to one of the dining tables for four. He was talking to his big sis for most of the time.” The blond knew that he should have just talked to Dean as he had planned, damn the consequences to his burgeoning popularity. “He was alone for most of the night.” When the officer prompted for a further explanation, he continued. “He’s gay, you see, and everyone knows that he gave Mr. Wren head in summer back when we were going into 8th grade. Invited him over to his house for training, yeah? But get this, Dean can’t play sports for shit. Jim actually caught them, cause he’s the one who told everyone when we came back to school. And nobody wanted to be friends with the guy who does gay shit. So they keep their distance.”

 

The officer looked fairly alarmed, eyebrows furrowed as he looked between the two teens that were before him, “Is this true? Why didn’t you report the incident?” His words were directed to Jim who sat before him.

 

The young man’s eyes were squinted as he stared at the desk, his form slumped in the chair. “It was never true,” Jim mumbled, “I made it up.”

 

_What?_ This was news to Lucas. Jim had sworn on his Bubbe’s grave that he had seen with his own two eyes, his uncle’s dick going into Dean’s mouth.

 

Even the officer was astonished. “Why?” Good question. That rumour had ruined all of Dean’s friendships at the time. Fourteen-year-olds were brats in general, but thirteen-year-old Dean had been massacred socially. It was only by a whim that Lucas had tried to talk to Dean and discovered that he was actually kinda cool.

 

“I was scared,” Jim started, “I–we were dating at the time, and some kid Uncle Rob was supposed to train came and saw me…” his voice trailed off, his cheeks a boiling red.

 

It was almost easy to finish his sentence. Lucas couldn’t believe the gall of the scrawny little guy. “ _You_ were the one giving _Dean_ a blowie, weren’t you?”

 

Jim avoided the eyes of both males in the room. “Yes. And I knew Dad would skin me alive if he knew, so I improvised and just started telling everyone who would listen.”

 

The officer of the law was obviously surprised and greatly disturbed by the revelations, but made efforts to get the discussion back on track. “Regardless, we must focus on the night of the murder. Was there anyone who harboured ill will towards Dean?”

 

“I know Tyrone hated his guts. Very homophobic, that one.”

 

Jim chimed in, “I _think_ he’s the one who caught us. Back then.”

 

The officer tilted his head inquisitively as he made some note on his notepad, “Tyrone-?” “Fields.” The lawman nodded in thanks. “Was there anyone of note who interacted with Dean? _Anyone_ at all aside from his sister, Stephanie?”

 

_Wait._ “I think he was talking to an…Asian guy? I heard Britt commenting about some Peters guy talking to Dean. No, I’m _pretty_ sure that was him.” Britt had complained of the fact that a hot guy had been giving Dean the time of day. Lucas could remember how done he had been with the conversation, and eager to just fucking _do_ something.

 

A light lit behind Jim’s eyes as he sat upright, fingers snapping in an _eureka_ moment. “Sean Peters,” at the bewildered stares of the officer and his friend, Jim elaborated, flustered, “he was a chaperone for the night. I noticed him, because _hello,_ St. Michaels is really, well, _vanilla,_ and he’s an Asian guy!” Seemingly remembering who he was speaking to, Jim continued in a more tamely, “I remember glancing over and seeing him talking to Dean at the section of the room closest to the west exit doors.”

 

“Can you tell me how he looked?”

 

“Well, it was dark, so I couldn’t really see much- oh, gosh. Do you think that what we heard was from-”

 

“Please focus, Mr. Wren.”

 

“It was dark, but he was tall. Really tall for an Asian guy. Like, my uncle’s height. He had dark hair, I’m not too sure of the exact colour, sorry, and I don’t know how his eyes looked either. He was broad shouldered, though. Built like an athlete.” Faint _cracks_ were heard as Jim nervously worked at his hands.

 

Officer Scott nodded once more, his pen scribbling, as he pursued more information for the furthering of the investigation, eyes intense in their scrutiny, “Was there anything else that was off to you? The food? The punch?”

 

Both teens shook their heads in the negative.

 

A weary sigh escaped the officer. For a moment he bowed his head in apparent exhaustion, before he pressed his hands to the arms of the chair to help him stand tall once more. He clicked his pen closed, and flipped his notepad closed as well. Both found their way into his pocket. For a moment he was a striking image, if a little bit discouraging. Standing tall, yet obviously exhausted and overworked. His cheeks were gaunt, deep shadows having taken root beneath his eyes. Yet there was a strength to him, in the stern set of his mouth, the steel of his eyes, the tenseness of his muscles, as though he were ready for any occurrence, expected or not. Lucas felt a small flicker of hope as he looked at the police officer, hope that the death of his friend would be brought to justice through the capture of his killer. With one last look to the boys, he called for his partner to send in the next set of students.

 

Lucas took advantage of the dismissal, wrenching the door open with force, eager to escape the confines of the office. He made his way down the hall swiftly with his clunky boots, but not fast enough to escape Jim.

 

“Hey, Lucas! Wait up!” The dark haired teen jogged to Lucas’ side, falling into step with him.

 

“What do you want?”

 

Jim hurried to get his words out in the face of Lucas’ not-so-welcoming words, “Can we talk? I know you like Dean too-”

 

Lucas found that he had to cut in. “I never liked him like that,” the blond crossed his arms and turned to the younger teen with a frown, “I’m straight, okay? Dean is - _was_ my best friend. We _were_ very close friends,” he continued, voice odd, “but I screwed it up to go gallivanting with some girl while some dude mur- he is my best friend.”

 

Jim slowed, confusion making its way onto his face. “Really?”

 

Lucas rolled his eyes, sniffling, “ _Yes._ ”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Yeah, _oh_. It’s rumours like the ones you’re always spreading that make things awkward, you know? I mean, I can be an asshole at times, and I never professed to be anything else, much less _in love_. So it’s really shitty when your best friend thinks that the crush he has on you is mutual.” Lucas rubbed at his eyes, “how was I supposed to just break his heart? So I acted like even more of an asshole in response. How well _that_ worked.”

 

The dark haired teen still wouldn’t meet Lucas’ eyes. “I know. I _really_ do. I was so shitty. Very shitty. I mean, me and Dean, we had a connection, yet I ran the moment someone found out. He was my first kiss, if you can believe it. Brought me flowers, bought me chocolate. He was willing to visit my house even though my dad is racist. I can’t believe it. ”

 

It was at that point that both boys ended up bawling their eyes out, one for his lost best friend, and the other for his lost love.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title and summary are from WATSKY!'s song, "Talking To Myself" . 
> 
> Really sets the mood ;D
> 
> I'm kinda proud of this one chapter here. Just a bit. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it! Cause this is officially done.
> 
> <3

**Author's Note:**

> My first love has life once more! Indeed. Thanks for reading!
> 
> Check out the other fics in this series. Or even just Henry Escauta, Professional Nuisance.


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